


Strangers

by dominatriix



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1990s, 90's Music, AU, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Earth, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Anal Fingering, Angst, Childhood Trauma, Consent Issues, Don't Judge Me, Don't Like Don't Read, Don't sue me, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Porn, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Repressed, Fluff, Forgive Me, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, I apologize in advance, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Health Issues, Multi, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, NSFW, Other, Paraphilias, Pedophilia, Please Don't Hate Me, Please Don't Kill Me, Please just read, Post-Divorce, Rape/Non-con Elements, Relationship Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Trichophilia, You'll see what I mean, arthur deserves better, different planet, gay-ish, go easy on my dumb ass, god i love men, haircut kink shit, haircut shit, if this triggers you don't read, ill add more tags later, it's okay to be different?, literally idek, lumen is everything ya'll, mental health, not really sexual but involving sex, paraphilia awareness, this isn't politically correct so like, trust me he's cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23762545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dominatriix/pseuds/dominatriix
Summary: It's 1995 on Futurae (basically au earth, it's not as cringey as it sounds) and there's this teenage boy named Arthur, who's, like, fifteen, and his parents got divorced when he was a kid and his mom is never home and he's got four sisters. he's developed chronophilia, in this case pedophilia, but obviously represses it, like self hatred. One day, this girl takes interest in him but it's just slowly eating him up inside.
Relationships: Original Character & Original Character, Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character & Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so BASICALLY:  
> it's quarantine 2020, what's new. Me, actually, to ao3. Uh,,, i wanted to write a paraphilic story for a while now, and I'm aware not everybody likes it or is open to that sort of thing. I usually don't write original characters, but I think this way it'll be the most authentic. This started when my English teacher assigned us a creative writing prompt, and I wrote this story's first chapter out and waited for her to grade it. She said my writing was good, but she wasn't comfortable with me writing about this topic, and to change my next few chapters to make them more "school appropriate". So I apologized to her n stuff, obviously, she's chill. But then I thought maybe I could just write the explicit stuff here.. y'know? It'll probably suck and be really cringe-y but.. fuck it. please don't kill me. I do not intend to romanticize anything, this isn't meant to be perfect nor politically correct, so if mental health disorders or any of the tags disturb you, you of course don't have to read. I'll try to put warnings in front of chapters people might find triggering, but can't promise anything.

It was the sound of my alarm clock signalling it was 7 o’clock on that Thursday morning that finally made my mind snap back into reality. Slamming my fist on the jittering monitor finally got it to shut up. 

But at this point, the alarm going off was unnecessary, due to the fact that for the fourth night in a row my body woke me up at 3 in the morning to face the intrusive thoughts clouding my mind, as well as to the aggressive sounds of my sister moaning during yet another round of her erotic escapades with her interchanging fuck-buddies. 

By the sounds of voices seeping through the walls that I had hours to interpret, I could assume her pick of last night would have to be either… Diego, or that new guy named Ben I’ve seen hanging around her lately. My sister’s a pretty girl, pretty popular, too. I’ve got four of ‘em. There’s the aforementioned Lumen; the one with all the playboys, Emily, Fiona, and Angelique, who goes by “Angie” these days. 

During my four hours of early-morning reflection, I had resorted to the same occupation I’ve succumbed to for the last 3 other restless nights, listening to my music. Look, I’ve got no clue what other fifteen year olds listen to these days, because I’m nothing like them. Maybe Lumen does, she’s pretty up-to-date in that area, but definitely not me. I started with some Nirvana, then some Bowie, then some Portishead. Portishead is the shit, by the way. If you ask me, their debut album is possibly the most underappreciated music compilation of this decade, so far. While Dummy quietly flooded my ears through the headphones of my Walkman with its electrifying tones, I had no choice but to, of course, elaborately dwell on the deliberations protruding my mind. 

Actually, it was more like I felt obligated to address them, to solve them, to confront those monsters myself. But when the waves that are problems become tsunamis, when they become horrific walls of power capable of destroying the entire village that is your mind, you learn to evacuate out of survival. You learn your only form of endurance and practice it to perfection as if it’s an art form; escapism becomes your closest ally, it becomes the only way you can persevere anymore, since going out to battle the ferocious mountain of a storm drains more out of a person than what a thousand men can take all together. 

And I’m definitely not planning on signing up for any additional voluntary self-destructive behaviors, such as foolishly going anywhere near that part of my mind, any time soon. So there I was, blocking out the normalized sounds of my sister bursting with pleasure only a room away, when I ascended into the vaults of my subconscious. When I escape, I manage to shut off everything around me and float off like a helium balloon into space, where my insignificant thoughts and problems melt into the insignificant surroundings of my insignificant life, this insignificant town, and then this insignificant little planet. 

Past Futurae, everything just fades into magnificent oblivion, these colors and shapes that I can only imagine stain the endless sky with their everlasting vivacity of an aurora. All the way up there, up where “up” doesn’t even exist because of its immateriality, somewhere so far away where words or direction itself is invalid, I can find everlasting peace in the realization of how insignificant humans are in the grand scheme of things. That in itself is the greatest form of relief I can find to put myself at ease. My journey into the depths of the cosmos was abruptly ceased by the jolt of awakening my nuisance of an alarm clock efficiently provided me with, just about ten seconds ago.

A knock at my door followed shortly thereafter.   
“ARTHUR! I GOTTA DRIVE DIEGO HOME, A’IGHT? YOU GOTTA WALK! AND NO SKIPPING SCHOOL!” my eldest sister bellowed. 

Lumen and I haven’t had the chance to talk in a while, but she somehow is the one that knows the most about my life without really engaging in it. At least, she’s the only one who’s paid enough attention to realise I haven’t actually attended any of my classes for the past 3 days. Oh, and at least I was right about it being Diego who came over last night. 

I made no comment at her demands. I was definitely not going to be attending school, anyways. I don’t know, maybe I’ll get into that later, maybe I won’t. Removing my headphones, which actually quit playing music hours ago, I lazily sat upright on my bed, and quietly proceeded to slip on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans I found laying on the floor. 

I then waddled over to the bathroom with caution, trying to be as invisible as possible in the dimly lit house this early in the morning. Closing the bathroom door behind me, I avoided my reflection effectively as I brushed away at the plaque at the base of my teeth and expertly combed my hair back into it’s signature style with the help of my trusty gel. I went back to my room to gather my Walkman, carefully stuff it in my backpack, pull on my dark green hoodie and proceed to tiptoe to the front door. Lumen had already left while I was getting ready, so I won’t encounter any other sister of mine this morning, hopefully.

Just as I reached for the lock on the front door, I heard the wretched voice croak out my name. 

“Arthur! Hey, buddy…!” 

Fuck. I had no choice but to turn around to face my desperate creature of a mother.

“H-hey, mum,” I muttered apprehensively. 

I haven’t seen her around for a solid 3 weeks, which is kind of become expected by now. Her extended periods of binge drinking till she drops has become her trademark activity of choice, ever since I was six when she and my dad split up. Mostly, us kids survived on our own. I still feel bad for Lumen, though, who was only nine years old when she had to start taking care of me, Emily, Fi, and Angie. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while, actually… uh, what has your young self been up to these days, huh? Going to a lot of parties? Any girls I should know about?”

It seemed almost absurd that she was asking me about my personal life. Pathetic, even, considering how inappropriate it felt. She’s never been the motherly type, even when I was little, and I grew used to having no real “parent” figure in my life. Sure, I’ve got my sister, but she’s got her own stuff going on, and we don’t actually talk. Nobody’s heard from my dad for a solid 9 years, so that’s out of question, too. 

I tried to focus my mind on how to dodge her question as smoothly as possible and get the hell out of here before things get too vivid. Her body reeks of alcohol, agitating me further, and I want nothing more than for her to just poof into thin air right now and leave me alone. She probably just wants something from me. Like, money or something. But I don’t have any money, shiiiiit. 

“Uh, no, not really… I, uh, gotta go, I’m gonna be late for school,”

I once again reached for the door handle and this time managed to get as far as cracking it open just enough to let the cool air seep inside. 

“Honey, wait!” and then, horrifyingly, she doddled over to where I stood and placed a mucky peck on my pale forehead.   
“Have a great day at school,” she said lovingly, and before I had the opportunity to vomit right then and there, I escaped her clutches, muttered a half-assed “thanks” and clumsily hurried out the door.

“Pffft, that was close,” I huffed to myself, already emerging onto the street and pulling up the hood of my jacket to shield myself from the cold. The sky was grey today, just how I like it.

I crossed the street and moved out of sight from my shabby little house until I was finally free from its bindings. Now, I had the whole day to myself, yet again. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I felt a rough sort of fabric against the fingertips on my right palm, and impulsively pulled the card stock of thick green papers out of the pocket. Holy shit, I had 24 whole bucks in my pocket without even realizing it. How long was it even in there? I can’t remember the last time I had cash on the spot so unexpectedly. 

I guess the surprise money first thing in the morning ignited some sort of inspiration within me to think of something to do with it. Alright, I knew just where to go. So I confidently rounded the corner of the street and strode to where I was going to spend my hours of scholarly learning on this very Thursday morning.

**Author's Note:**

> it sucks i'm sorry i  
> i'll get to more stuff later, i guess. i'm cringing real hard that my english teacher read this crap, though. nearly gouged my eyes out from cringing.


End file.
